


Ode to a Thousand Years

by DterminD



Series: The Crystal Collection [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Affection, Anal Sex, Bedroom Sex, Biting, Canon Compliant, Emotional Sex, Feels, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Fluff, Gay Sex, Happy Sex, Kissing, Loud Sex, Lust, M/M, Making Love, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Married Sex, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Orgasm, POV First Person, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Porn with Feelings, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Requited Love, Sex Talk, Sleepy Sex, Slow Build, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Stargazing, Tags Contain Spoilers, Teasing, Tender Sex, Wake-Up Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29732181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DterminD/pseuds/DterminD
Summary: Ode to a Thousand Yearstakes place just prior to the events of patch 5.4 that start the ball rolling towardEndwalker. The story focuses on a quiet, tender moment of reflection as Scion G’raha Tia considers everything that has come before, and everything that he hopes to find in his new future with Raphail Somnalune, his beloved husband and Warrior of Light.G’raha Tia. The Crystal Exarch. Scion. All are names that one man has worn, though his face, body, and mind have not always matched. One thing, however, has always remained: an eternal fascination with the violet-haired hero that has saved countless worlds from utter ruin. No matter how hard G’raha tries, being back in the Source — in said hero’s arms, wearing his ring as proof — seems like a dream too good to be true. But as Raphail sleeps beside him, all he can think about in this moment is taking proper advantage of his new, boundless reality.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: The Crystal Collection [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819948
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Ode to a Thousand Years

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING: _Ode to a Thousand Years_ contains spoilers for the _Shadowbringers_ expansion and Patch 5.3. Please complete the main story quest "Reflections in Crystal" before reading. The identity of the Crystal Exarch is revealed.
> 
> CONTINUITY WARNING: Events from [_Memoirs of a Miqo’te_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123735/chapters/60870622) and previous stories in _The Crystal Collection_ are mentioned. Reading the previous _Crystal Collection_ stories first will help explain many of the specific references and in-jokes. Readers that aren’t familiar with _Memoirs_ can still enjoy the story, but references to Raphail-specific subjects may feel out of place or unexplained. In particular, both Raphail and the Exarch refer to Raphail by his birth name, Raph’ir Sahra.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: This story features adult content intended for ages 18+. The tone stays romantic/euphemistic and explicit language is not used, but one detailed sex scene is included in full. Please use this information to help make an informed decision about your comfort level. Other, less explicit stories in _The Crystal Collection_ may be more to your liking if you have concerns or objections.
> 
> PSA: Like most written erotica, this story does not take the time to include on-screen use of lube during anal sex. Please be safe, responsible, and educated about this necessity if you attempt any sort of real-world equivalent/experiment.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Before diving in, a quick lore reminder that will be relevant: Each of the constellations in Eorzea is tied to a pair of the Twelve. It is said that The Arrow was created atop a lofty peak by Oschon, the Wanderer, who was guided by Llymlaen, the Navigator. Accounts differ over whether Llymlaen was Oschon’s lover, niece, or — in some drunken claims — both at the same time. Not up for debate is the tale of how Oschon once failed to look away from Llymlaen bathing, only to find Himself the target of Her divine throwing knife.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.”  
—William Shakespeare

They say that one should never meet their heroes. Mayhap they never knew mine.

And how many, knowing me, would praise my obedience on that subject, or any other?

Send them to him, if you should find any. He will set the record straight with a smile. It is presumptuous of me, but at this point, I dare to think he _approves_.

Beside me, in the rosy glow of the dying fire and the winter moonlight, he sleeps in spite of it all. He always claims that _he_ is the lucky one — but the heat in his lips and his words lingers upon my skin whenever I object, so I will continue to state my case every now and then.

It is good, within the bonds of marriage, to keep things lively.

I have not yet decided whether I prefer this view of him to my first. In _this_ moment, his beauty has no equal. The artless tranquility of his face when he cannot, and does not _need_ to, shape it however he pleases is mine alone, now. It is a gift I am not wont to part with for any price.

Yet he was artless _then_ , too. Flustered by my unseen voice, thrown from afar in brazen jest; weary from playing fetch with my gifted aethersand. How I grinned at his muttered oaths and sullen glares! I could have carried the game on for weeks, had either of us the time to spare.

And in the midst of utter ruin, he looked up to the Black Shroud sky and _smiled_.

_Done already? Heh. If you wanted a performance, you could have asked. I’m just getting warmed up. Don’t hold back on me now._

The boldness in his eyes matched his words, daring me — begging me — for _more_. How could I have refused? He was every ilm and more the hero spoken of in hushed whispers and drunken boasts from one end of Eorzea to the other. I but played my humble part in making it known.

Naught has changed since that day.

I was told once, in a past (or, perhaps, future) life, that it _still_ had not after three hundred years.

This time, I will ensure that I bear witness to it all _myself_ , with my own eyes.

With my own hands.

With my own body, sculpted once again in full from the flesh I wore at birth, absent the crystal I once accepted in exchange for his life.

Thus committed, I close the slender gap between us in his — no, _our_ — bed and prop myself up with one elbow to get the best view of his face. If he belonged more to me than to the realm of slumber, I know he would offer me a kiss in welcome; for now, I will steal what he cannot give.

The way he scrunches up his eyes and bares the tips of his fangs at me in subconscious protest at the interruption has grown achingly familiar, though even the simplest things between us remain extraordinary and take me by surprise. Had I a thousand years to live and more, I could not have dared to imagine myself deserving of such joy.

My heart cannot contain it all.

I must share it with him.

 _Responsibility_ be damned.

He catches my hand in transit on its way to his cheek without even seeming to try. Before my lungs have taken their next breath, he traps my palm against the rise and fall of his sturdy chest. I can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingers as he mumbles aloud.

“Mmm… Raha. Sorry to… wake you.”

 _He_ is sorry? As if I have _not_ endeavored to wrest his attention from his dreams!

When he rises, I shall remind him that unnecessary apologies are _unbecoming_. Those were his words to _me_ , as I recall, on many a late night such as this one — nights in which only his gentle words and the warm caress of his skin against mine could soothe my wounded pride as a clumsy, overeager _adventurer_ , newly returned to the Source after a lengthy nap.

But I do not have it in me to chastise him, for now. I know well that there are far too many nights that he does not sleep at all; mornings that bring him awake in a blind panic, seeing sinister plots and bitter losses amongst all the shadows on the walls. My presence offers him respite from such burdens, or so he claims — but it cannot undo the work of so many years by itself.

It is not _right_ that the pages of history should so often abbreviate the silent suffering that has made him who he is, in the name of singing his praises as a hero! And yet… he presses on in spite of it all, carrying the loneliness inside himself, with every beat of his endless heart.

For those he has lost. For those he can yet save.

I understand, perhaps more than I should.

There are nights when I, too, lie awake and _remember_. 

_The future is where my destiny waits. But yours lies outside of these doors. Go. Create a future where hope reigns, and the tragedies of the past are but memories. No one but you can accomplish such things._

_The Warrior of Light? Twelve rest his soul. I’m afraid he’s no longer with us, lad. Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news. We sure could use his help right now._

_Stubborn fool to the last, aren’t you? Heh. Lucky for you, we’ve got nothing left to lose. And if anyone can make the impossible possible… it’s you. So go. And know that we all go with you._

_Wicked white. You’re a long way from home, sinner. You and that crystal contraption of yours. But questions can wait. These damned sin eaters won’t wait for much longer— ahhhh!_

My journey, much like my Warrior’s, was never without its trials.

But now, each time I wake trembling by his side, his strong arms surround me. It is a constant reminder that Azeyma still shines upon us to herald a new day of adventure.

I will not have such kindness wasted by tears, least of all my own.

He smiles in his sleep, and my scattered thoughts flee; I am once again lost in his presence. That smile both is and was the source of every hope that I have ever borne in defiance of despair; the sole strength that has made every step of this journey of mine possible.

It has awakened such things inside me that I scarcely know how to put them all into words suitable to hold them. And what is more, I fear he _knows_ it as well as he knows his own name. What secrets can I keep from him, now that everything has been laid bare after so long? He has already stolen my mind and my heart. He has already served as the shepherd of my soul.

Even my body is his; a blank canvas for the art of his pleasure, shared in turn with me.

Hah! How poetic I have grown since we first met. The boy I once was would refuse to believe it. Perhaps it is the old man left in me? That would be a pretty excuse, but I have naught to blame but the _new_ man I have become — hungry, willing, and eager to meet his every need with my own as we make our way into the future that we wrote for ourselves, and for Eorzea. How many can say that they have fallen in love with the same man on three separate occasions?

My cheeks burn in the silence as I continue to watch him dream beneath me, overwhelmed by the depth of my tender thoughts. I know there is no shame in them, but _knowing_ does little to lessen the way they set my heart, mind — and _body_ , yes — ablaze.

From the silky strands of violet hair that stray across my pillow each night, to the curved arches of his bare toes, he _fascinates_ me. Try though I might, I will never be anything approaching his _equal_ — but I have come far enough in these last three hundred years that I can stand at his side and proudly proclaim myself his husband, his lover, and his friend.

And now, we are more than mere stars passing in the nighttime sky, fated to fall without ever truly seeing each other shine.

We shine together, into the future. Where our destinies await.

That is all there is to it, and all there will ever be, until the last dawn rises overhead.

Until we are _both_ old men someday, toothless and infirm, and utterly unable to do more than _smile_ about days and adventures gone by.

We have much to do before then.

I free my hand from his grasp and embrace him, pulling him close beneath our rumpled sheets. The constellations dance outside the tall windows of our estate, calling out for us — ah, no. What rings in my ears is not the sky; it is my selfish body calling for _him_ instead.

I press my lips against the softness of his outer ear, keeping my voice at a whisper.

“Wake up, Raph’ir. The Arrow is in full view tonight. Was it not you that taught me how to find it, all those years ago? I should thank you. I have never forgotten the sight, nor how to find it again on command… nor how the light from our campfire was the only thing keeping you from noticing how shy I was. Having you so near… it is a wonder the details ever registered.”

His eyes open in what feels like slow motion — too slowly for my patience! — though the easy, affectionate way he turns on his side to face me is reward enough for enduring. When he speaks at last, his lazy, teasing drawl is still heavy with sleep, bewitching me further.

“Damn it, catboy, I’m _trying_ to get some shuteye here. Let Oschon and Llymlaen have their fun. We can talk about arrows all you want in the morning, y’know. It’s a promise.”

Despite his words, his face betrays no hint of surprise when I press myself further into his chest, far too eager to be placated by mere _promises_. I can feel myself stiffen in response to the gentle pressure and close warmth of his belly; the urge to climb astride his lap and simply _take_ what I want without waiting for an answer to my unspoken plea is immense. But it has _never_ been difficult to arouse his interest, even sometimes for a second or third performance.

I know, too, that my shamelessness serves to push him to greater heights.

“Mayhap I was not clear enough, my Warrior of Darkness. Allow me to put it in less _lyrical_ terms. I am _hard_ , I _want_ you, and the Twelve themselves will not keep me from you another _moment_.”

I have his full attention _now_ , judging from the way his tail finds its way around us both to caress the outside of my leg in approval. He slides an arm around me as his eyes narrow, calling my bluff in jest — but I know well that it is the surest sign that my advances are welcome. I can only marvel at the firm grip of his palm against the back of my bare shoulder blade. I have not been free of my crystal fetters for long enough to forget the relative novelty of such joy just yet.

“Raha. _Please_ tell me you didn’t wake me up to tell me something this _obvious_. Not that I _object_ to waking up with you grinding into me. Or that pleading look on your face. Too much of _that_ and I won’t be able to help myself… but you know that. Don’t you.”

It is not a question. And what is more, it does not require a response from either of us. He leans in to fill the resulting silence with his lips, lingering and teasing in direct, _intentional_ defiance of my stated need. I should never have told him, of course… but from the rush of excitement surging through every ilm of my body, I think perhaps this torment _is_ what I desired most.

I cling to him tighter as the steadiness of my breathing begins to unravel; as he makes his slow, deliberate way down from my lips to my chin, down the side of my throat to my neck by way of the solid lines of my Sharlayan ink. My tail tries its best to wrap itself around his waist and pull him toward me as the pressure between us starts to grow painful.

Only then does he tighten his mouth around the flesh at my collarbone, leaving his mark on me for all of Eorzea to bear witness. I cannot hold back any longer — his ears twitch in both pleasure and amusement as I whimper his name into the open air.

“Raph’ir… I could have left you to your beauty sleep if I were content to _suffer_ until _dawn_. We were discussing _arrows_ , were we not? Even Oschon wisely chose to follow Llymlaen’s directions on where to place His. I-I would have the same courtesy _now_.”

HIs quiet chuckle tells me at once that I can expect no such thing; that he fully intends to drag this out until I am naught but a dripping, writhing mess beneath him. In that moment, I am prepared to pay any price to feel the warmth of his body inside me, even if it _is_ my pride.

“Heh. You seduced the wrong man for _that_ , sunshine. If I answer to anything, it’s _Azeyma_ , not Oschon. And the _sun_ takes her sweet time across the sky, burning all she touches. What would Llymlaen say to _that_? Maybe Oschon should have spoken up in His own defense.”

I dig my nails into his back by way of response, uncertain if the action is mere reflex due to my pleasure, or his _due_ punishment — but then I realize that his hand is making its way down my side, replacing the soft fluff of his tail. My attention splits itself between the touch of his fingers and what I pray will be their destination; there is no space left for words.

I have only a moment to demand — and eagerly receive — his lips again, sharing in his breath, before he grants me at least partial salvation. Everything within me trembles in anticipation as his roving hand reaches my inner thigh. His eyes meet mine, holding my gaze. And then, when I can bear it no longer, he wraps his palm around my throbbing rod. This time, my audible moan is anything but quiet and gentle; it is all I can do to maintain my grip on reality.

“Well. Lucky for _you_ , I was dreaming about a certain red-headed Seeker of the Sun even _before_ he woke me up with all this nonsense about arrows. Seems you’ve got me dead to rights, catboy. If you want to thank me so bloody much for telling stories around the campfire all those years ago, I’ll take everything you’ve got in gratitude. Starting with _this_.”

I can hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice despite my hunger, but all I can make out between his inviting words is the promise of more to come; of everything I ache for. Such sentiments assure me that he grows tired of his little games. The end of my long wait is nigh.

His hand caresses my desperate hardness in rhythmic, even strokes, setting the pace while carefully studying my face and body for every little tremor of pleasure between hungry kisses. But I know well what I _truly_ want, and to let him continue will leave me too spent for the final performance. I find his wrist with a reluctant hand and tighten my grip in silent request, murmuring something incoherent about changing position.

He is, of course, so charmingly eager to please that he concedes at once, making it far easier to climb on top of him — as I have wanted to all evening — than to form actual speech.

A slow, welcoming grin spreads across his face as he gazes up at me astride his lap; nestled into the pile of pillows beneath us, he is easily the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. Wrapped tight in his arms, our tails and limbs entwined, it does not take much to notice that he, too, is in need — his shaft is like warm steel against the crease of my arse, even as my own seeks the comforting heat and friction between our bodies.

He already knows, of course.

I do not _need_ to tell him.

But I _must_ have him.

I glance down into his incomparable blue eyes and swallow hard.

“P-Please… Raph’ir. I… I would have you inside me—”

He cuts me off with a lengthy kiss, and as he draws back, I can see the tips of his fangs glisten in the firelight, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Sorry, catboy. I didn’t quite catch that. Try again. _Louder_ this time.”

My hands find their way to his upper chest and tighten, forcing him to bear my full weight. The slight grunt of surprise he lets out as I lean down to press my forehead against his fuels my courage in stating the obvious plainly enough for even _him_ to grasp — to say nothing of our next-door neighbors, the whole of the Sultanate, and the Twelve.

“You know as well as I do that you cannot hold back another bell. So _take me_. Pierce me with your arrow. Give me my place among the stars. _Now_.”

This time, he does not laugh, or grin, or poke fun at my words. There is a determined certainty in both his eyes and his body as he moves beneath my hands, aligning himself with me in preparation for _letting_ me win; or so he will claim, when it is over. But the way he runs his fingers tenderly through my unbound hair, his lips almost touching mine, puts the lie to all of it.

“That… was much better, _G’raha Tia_. And you’re right. I really _can’t_ hold back anymore.”

He does not need to ask twice, least of all with my name on his lips.

I reach back with one hand to brace him against me, letting my inner muscles relax to allow him entry. The caution and patience he once insisted upon for the Crystal Exarch is no longer needed _or_ welcome as I ease him inside without hesitation or pause; I know well what it feels like to have every ilm of his rod pass through this body, now. Tonight it is no different: a keen awareness of the steady, inexorable answer to a question that I have had all my life.

Every time, I marvel at how similar it always felt in my dreams.

My breath starts to quicken as he lets out a soft but clear groan beneath me, and I watch the raw hunger that he has tried so hard to restrain for the sake of teasing me take hold in his gaze. As he pulls my body down against him, his kisses get rougher and more demanding; his hands tighten possessively in my hair, as if trying to ensure that I cannot escape him. WIth my weight still heavy on his chest, I feel myself throb hard against his taut belly. By the time I have adjusted fully to his presence, I realize I am whimpering his name.

“R-Raph’ir… y-yes… like this… let me show you… e-everything you mean to me…”

Whatever he says in response is lost between us as I start to move my hips back and forth against him, using my grip on his chest for added leverage in each of my thrusts. Both of us lose ourselves in the feeling of his entire length as it glides in and out of my body in perfect rhythm. My eagerness to increase the pace is tempered only by my desire to prolong the sensation; his willingness to acquiesce for the time being suggests that he agrees with my unspoken logic.

As we move in unison, time loses all meaning for me yet again.

For now, it is enough to write his name across my skin; to play the memory of his body inside mine on repeat as proof against any darkness that might fall upon Eorzea. The sound of his voice and my name _must_ carry on the eternal wind, and I _will_ be its shepherd.

This is where my destiny awaits.

I do not notice I have said it _aloud_ until he responds in kind, his breathless murmurs strained and somewhat hoarse from a combination of pleasure and tenderness.

“Yeah. Right here. With me. And don’t ever forget it… sunshine.”

I can feel him losing patience beneath me, his body no longer willing or able to let mine do all the work. His hands, at last tired of their journey through my hair, slide down my sweaty back and come to rest on the curves of my arse, spreading me wider around his shaft. The quiet oaths that he growls between kisses draw forth my own.

At this rate, neither of us will last much longer.

I will make him _earn_ the rest of my belated gratitude twice over, like aethersand.

For old times’ sake.

Removing my hands from his chest, I push them into the comfortable mattress beneath us instead, arching myself further forward over his body. A silent question forms in his eyes, but I answer it by bracing my legs against the outsides of his, stabilizing myself for everything that I know he is capable of. He will not be gentle when I ask, nor do I want him to be.

My gaze catches and holds his as I speak.

“I am close, Raph’ir… and I would have _you_ … finish what I started. Pray forgive my selfishness… b-but I think mayhap you shall find the burden… a welcome one.”

The wide, playful grin he wore earlier tugs at the edges of his mouth — but we are both too far gone for lingering torment now, and he knows it as well as I do.

“Heh. Making me… do everything even now, huh? Fine. Consider us… even.”

He gives me time to catch only a single breath before he commits himself to the art of burying himself inside me, putting everything into the swift, repeated motion of driving his hips up into my waiting arse. Of course, his initial thrust is timed _specifically_ to catch me off guard, taking back control of my body by calculated, deliberate force. There is no room left for fencing wits with him now, even in jest; this time, he is not playing a game. He is devoting himself wholly to our shared pleasure, and _succeeding_. I would expect no less from my Warrior of Darkness.

It takes me several moments to realize I am no longer quiet. The bard that I once was would marvel at my latent ability to _project_ — were he not still mounted atop his lover’s rod and begging for sweet release. It is _all_ Raph’ir’s fault; so I tell myself as I shift my weight to one arm and reach down with the other to take hold of my own shameless erection.

I feel his arms wrap around me in response, reducing what space remains between us to a memory. His sudden deep and tender kisses muffle both my volume and the need for me to consider apologizing for the streaks of wetness I have already left across the both of us. Even with my hand trapped between us, a few short strokes is all it will take to finish me.

The heat in his eyes and his voice tell me in no uncertain terms that all three hundred years of my life are about to flash before my eyes at once.

“C’mon, Raha. Don’t hold back now. I won’t stop until Oschon and Llymlaen _both_ hear you scream… and I am _so_ Twelve’s-damned _tired_ of waiting to give you what you _clearly_ woke me up for. Even heroes… have their limits.”

He is, of course, right. And as he plunges again into the depths of my body and soul, cradling me in his loving arms, I reach my own.

My heart pounds in my ears; my breath tears itself in short, ragged gasps from my lungs. Everything around me erupts into formless bliss and sound and warmth and light — there is no telling the difference between my own cries of ecstasy and his. Every muscle in my body clenches down against him with each shuddering spurt from my rigid shaft, well outside of my conscious control. Only the spaces in between grant me temporary purchase.

In the chaos, my empty mind seizes on one thing: his name, seemingly writ large against the backdrop of the night sky outside — the same sky that first inspired me to interrupt his slumber.

By the time I take hold of my senses again, I am not the only one fighting for control. Beneath me, Raph’ir’s handsome face is twisted in pleasure and his eyes are closed. The usual smooth evenness of his voice has transformed into something far more rough and feral. His chest glistens with a mixture of sweat and my own carelessness — and it is clear to both of us that he means to add more to the mess, now that my need has been thoroughly sated.

“S-Sorry, catboy… but I think… this arrow of yours… is about to—”

I give him a gentle kiss as his tail starts to twitch and flail next to us in a useless bid for purchase, telegraphing the end of his control. Still breathless, I guide my own tail around his in silent pleading; my ears lower and I press my forehead against his one last time.

“Fire away, my love. To the stars… and beyond.”

I am not sure, at first, that he hears me at all; then a sudden, low, deep groan fills the air, sending rippling vibrations between us. His entire body goes rigid as I press against him, expecting him to finish inside me as usual… but he is not yet done with surprises, even in the midst of his unbridled passion. Transfixed despite my growing exhaustion, I watch him pull free of me and insert himself into the dripping space between us instead.

“Together… r-right… Raha?”

My own wet fingers wrap themselves around and over his as the first thick streams of his pleasure start to cover us both; as he loses himself entirely against me, as blind to everything outside the two of us as the day he was first born into this world. He is always so poised, so sure of himself in all other aspects of his daily life since my return from Norvrandt — I cannot help but marvel at the sights and sounds before me.

He is not _nearly_ as quiet as he would like to believe, compared to me.

But telling him _now_ would interrupt the way his breath catches in his throat and lungs; the way his lips twitch as his face contorts itself between pleasure and naked joy.

And so I settle for different words, knowing that I will have the rest of our lives to share them when the time is right.

“Together… Raph’ir. Until a thousand years and more have passed.”

His mouth curves definitively into the beautiful smile that I know and love with all my heart by way of tired response; it is all the answer I need.

Tangled together in a tight embrace, drowned in the comfortable silence between us, neither of us notices when the waning embers in the distant fireplace fade for the last time. There is enough warmth now beneath our stained, sweaty sheets and bodies to last us until the arrival of dawn. Outside the window, the Arrow makes its slow, steady way past our view, though we have long since stopped watching in favor of sleep. It has served us well tonight, and will continue to serve us in the countless days, weeks, and years to come.

There will be _more_ such stories before the firelight. _More_ restless nights of wild abandon. _More_ mornings spent deep in our mugs of espresso, paying the price for those singular joys.

Our adventures, long and legion, await.

Starting tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading _Ode to a Thousand Years_! This one is much shorter than my usual stories, and the closest I expect to get as a writer to the concept of “porn without plot.” I really wanted to give G’raha a chance to be the focus instead of Raphail, which meant a lot of extra work in phrasing/word choice and an extra focus on sounding more elegant. I’ve always been fond of the way he talks, even when he’s being an overgrown kid, so I hope I did that justice here.
> 
> I haven’t decided what comes next yet! This story took longer than I expected between life stuff, holidays, the added difficulty of switching perspectives, and the eternal process of learning to be spicy on the page. It might be time to dive back into some of the gaps I left between other stories. There are several ideas in the pipe, so please keep an eye out for new developments.
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, comments, questions, and/or kudos are always welcome. And, of course, I hope you’ll consider sticking around for the other stories in _The Crystal Collection_ , or some of my other works as well!
> 
> For more information on my current writing schedule and the other FFXIV stuff I spend my time on, please check out my [Carrd site](https://raphsdesk.carrd.co/) at your convenience.


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